


before the water takes us

by graceless_wolf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe: Sinbad, Alternate universe: Pirates, Cas is Marina, Charlie is Rat and Benny is Kale, Dean and Cas are gay pirates thats literally the whole story, Dean is Sinbad, M/M, Sam is Proteus, Sinbad!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:09:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceless_wolf/pseuds/graceless_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Eris, Goddess of Discord, steals the Book of Peace from Syracuse, Dean Winchester is accused of her crime. When Sam, Prince of the Twelve Cities and Dean's brother, takes the fall for the crime Dean didn't commit, he is sentenced to die in ten days, unless Dean can return the Book before then. When Castiel, Sam's fiance through arranged marriage and the reason Dean left the royal family, stows away on Dean's ship to make sure he finds and returns the book, well, who knows what will happen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Wake up, my beauties,” the woman said. She was larger than a skyscraper, her silken black hair floating behind her as though it was submerged in water – as it often was. Today however, it was instead submerged in stars. She was a director, you see, the best kind of director. Any string she wanted pulled was tugged loose and handed to her on a gilded platter. And when she said that all the world was her stage, they weren’t just pretty words. She walked gracefully through the galaxies until reaching her favorite planet: Earth.

 

Around her as she spoke, the constellations came to life. Heroes and villains and monsters, all astriferous.

 

She trailed a hand along the back of a large fish. “Rise and shine,” she said, sing-song in tone, “It’s a brand new day, and the mortal world is at peace.” She smiled, “but not for long.”

 

“Just look at them, I pull one little thread-,” as she spoke, she tugged a golden thread from the surface of the world, pinching between her fingers. She turned her fingers so that her nails were holding the string taut until it snapped, “And their whole world dissolves into chaos.”

 

She smiled then, predatory and frightening, “ _Glorious_ chaos.”

 

“ _Oh,”_ she said, keen eyes peering down at the sea below her, where two ships were sailing close together, “and what could be more perfect than this?”

 

The first ship was ornate, dark brown and painted blue wood, gold and brass fittings, and the sail, emblazoned with the symbol of the king of the Twelve Cities. She was a royal’s ship. The second was smaller, but lithe in the water. She was of a maple colored wood, the sails looked plain, but were sturdy and made of good, albeit stolen, fabric. This was a pirate ship.

 

“A noble prince, a priceless treasure,” said she, gesturing to the first ship. Something in her eyes glinted, and she turned to the second ship, “and a black-hearted thief.”

 

She turned to the monsters, who had been gathering behind her. “Oh, Cetus?”

 

A large sea monster slid up to her, tentacles curling in excitement. “You know what to do.” And he did. Cetus crawled forward and peered his own eyes down to the world below. At the sight of the ships, racing towards an unknown destination, Cetus’ limbs began to twitch with eagerness. With one fell movement, Cetus was tumbling towards the waves. As Cetus fell towards the sea below, and the two ships, the woman smiled. “ _Oh, let the games begin_.”

 

Below her, the waves began to churn.

 

\--

 

Dean slid from down the stairway banister of the ship, eyes searching the deck, doing a quick headcount of the crew. When he ascertained that the lot of them were present, he grinned.

 

“Gentlemen,” he began.

 

“A _hem_.”

 

“And _Charlie._ This is the day we’ve been waiting for.”

 

There was a general murmur of excitement rippling through them now, and Dean’s smile widened. “After today, we retire to _Fiji_.”

 

His crew whooped and hollered, Charlie hoisting herself up on some of the ropes to swing around and land on Kevin’s back. Dean laughed at the expression on both of their faces.

 

“Benny!” he called.

 

“Aye, Captain,” Benny said, from behind him.

 

Dean jumped and poked his finger into Benny’s chest. “I thought I told you to stop doing that. Gods, man, we need to get you a bell.”

 

There was a glimmer of a smile in Benny’s eyes as he responded sarcastically, “ _Aye,_ Captain.”

 

“Oh shut it, you bastard,” Dean grinned. “Spike!” he called to the ship’s dog. “Let’s get rich!”

 

From somewhere behind him, a crew member hooked the blades of their ship into the ship next to them. The lot of them swung aboard on ropes, whooping and hollering the whole time. There was a clamor of noise as the soldiers on the king’s ship got their wits about them and began to fight. Dean threw his head back and barked a laugh, before joining his crew in the skirmish.

 

It took little more than a few moments before the soldiers were either passed out on the deck or otherwise incapacitated. He had a strict no killing policy.

 

“Did you see that last move?” He asked Benny, walking backwards in front of his first mate.

 

“Eh,” Benny said, “I thought you overworked it.”

 

At the same time, a soldier wielding a sword came charging at Benny. He held up a finger to Dean before clenching the blade of the sword between his teeth, using the leverage to throw the shocked-silent soldier over him and into the water.

 

“Oh, and _I_ was overworking it?” Dean snorted.

 

Benny chuckled, but then cleared his throat and nudged Dean’s shoulder. “It’s Sam,” he muttered.

 

Dean stopped, turning on his heel, and there was his brother. His younger brother, Sam, was walking towards them, staring at his crew in amused consideration. Dean sighed, “Now this,” he murmured, “this just got interesting.”

 

“Dean,” Sam said, one hand on the handle of his sword, though it was still tucked into his belt.

 

“Already preparing for a fight, are we? How long _has_ it been, Sam?” Dean asked, unsheathing his own knife, and flipping it in his hand.

 

“Years, likely,” Sam said carefully, drawing his own blade.

 

Dean wasn’t sure who struck first, but there was a clash of steel and they were fighting. Sam was just as good at this as he’d remembered, if not better. He felt a quiet sense of pride at his brother’s skill. A lot of it, he’d learned from Dean. Though, Dean had taken off before he could teach Sam everything.

 

“Just like old times,” Sam said, a little breathless.

 

Dean knocked the sword out of his brother’s hand and tucked his own dagger in his belt. He turned and pushed on the door to the hall. “And you still fight like an old lady.”

 

Sam followed him down the hallway, nervously, “What are you _doing_ here, Dean? I thought I’d never see you again.”

 

Dean hesitated, feeling the familiar knot of guilt curling in his stomach, “I’m working.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Sam asked, gesturing back to the deck, where Dean’s crew was looting and Sam’s was, well, they were a little tied up.

 

“Yeah,” Dean said, and that was it. Or so he hoped.

 

“What happened to you, Dean? Where have you been?” The pain in Sam’s voice made Dean pause, but he shook his head. The days where Sam was still his little brother were over. He had made this bed for himself the moment he left Syracuse.

 

“As much as I’d love to catch up, Sammy boy, I’ve got things to do, places to go,” he paused, pushing open the door at the end of the hall, where the priceless treasure of Syracuse sat on a wooden pedestal. He turned to Sam to raise an eyebrow and nod towards the room, “stuff to steal.”

 

“Dean, we need to talk,” Sam said, stepping into the room with him.

 

He rolled his eyes, “We’ve been doing an awful lot of talking, Sammy.” He moved towards the pedestal, eyes wide, “You know I’ve heard about it, read about it, but I’ve never actually seen it.”

 

“The Book of Peace,” Sam said, and Dean nodded. The pages were full of electric blue writing, glowing with a light that spoke of a power all of its own. The effect of the book in the room was tangible, and Dean felt better than he had in months.

 

“It’s my job to bring it safely to Syracuse,” Sam continued, eyeing Dean.

 

“Yeah? I’m real sorry then, Sam,” Dean said, chuckling as his hands settled on either side of the book, thumb stroking one of the pages. “I mean it, I feel awful.”

 

“Why?” Sam asked.

 

“Because you’re gonna get fired.”

 

“You can’t be serious,” Sam sighed, exasperated, “You disappear for ten years, show up, and rob me?”

 

“I wish it wasn’t you, I do.” Dean said, and he really meant it, but he needed this book. “Really.”

 

“But it is me, Dean. It is me.”

 

“Look, Sam. We were kids. We had a secret handshake and a hide out and I taught you how to sword fight. And it was fun but, we were kids.”

 

“We were _brothers,_ Dean. We’re still brothers. You’re not going to steal this. Not from me. The Book of Peace protects everyone in the Twelve Cities.”

 

Dean plastered a smirk on his face, even though he really just wanted to get the damned book and get off his brother’s ship. “Exactly,” he said.

 

“Dean, I’ll say it again. A long time ago, we were friends. We may not be friends anymore, but we’re still brothers. You will always be my brother. If that ever meant anything to you, prove it now.”

 

“You’re right, Sammy.” Dean said, clasping his hand around Sam’s shoulder. “That was a long time ago.”

 

He reached for the book, but Sam grabbed him, pulling him into a headlock. Dean yanked himself free and Sam stared at him.

 

“If you want the book, you’ll have to go through me.”

 

“C’mon, Sam,” Dean said, pleading, “Don’t get all heroic now.”

 

Suddenly, there was a crashing on the deck of the ship. Soldiers and pirates began screaming, both commands and simple cries of fear. From their position, Dean could see some sort of commotion happening on the deck.

 

“What the-,” he began as both he and Sam raced down the hallway.

 

When they got to the deck, the sunlight wasn’t glinting off the ocean but was, instead, glinting off the back of the biggest squid Dean had ever seen. And he’d been doing this gig for a while.

 

“ _Cetus_ ,” Sam hissed.

 

“You know this guy?” Dean asked, incredulous.

 

“Oh yeah, Dean,” Sam said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “We’re old friends.”

 

“Well, uh,” Dean said, sidling to the side of the deck and closer to his own ship and awaiting crew, “I’m sure you too will want some time to catch up, then. I’ll just leave you be.”

 

“You’re running away?” Sam cried, drawing his sword.

 

“Well,” Dean said, eyes widening. He watched as the monster Cetus devoured two sailors at once, “Yes. I am.”

 

He leaped up onto the railing, about to jump to his own ship and to safety when suddenly a giant tentacle came between the two vessels. Dean’s ship was sent backwards, forced back by a wave. Dean teetered on the edge of the railing for a few breathless moments before regaining his footing and returning to the deck of Sam’s ship.

 

“My ship!” He yelled.

 

“Your ship?” Sam asked, winded as he plunged his sword into Cetus’ tentacle, “ _My_ ship!”

 

Dean groaned before facing the monster. It looked like he was in this battle now, whether he wanted to be or not. As he watched, Cetus made a coughing noise, and one of Sam’s soldiers came flying out of his gullet, covered in goo and saliva. The soldier simply took a deep breath of fresh air to gather his wits before lifting his sword again and, with the most vengeful battle cry Dean had ever heard, leapt back at Cetus, intent on fighting again.

 

Dean gaped. Sam raised an eyebrow.

 

“Give that guy a raise,” Dean said.

 

Sam nodded, the barest of smiles on his face. Dean wondered if they could have fought like this together more if he had stayed in Syracuse, with his family. Then he remembered Cas, the look of grim determination on his face, and Dean knew leaving was the right decision. Sam would be a better king than Dean could ever hope to be.

 

Shaking himself from his reverie, Dean eyed Cetus carefully. The monster had almost completely destroyed the ship.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean caught sight of a stack of dynamite in the corner of the deck. He grinned and raced over to it.

 

“What are you doing, Dean?” Sam asked, joining him.

 

Dean cocked an eyebrow, “Defending the Prince of the Twelve Cities, of course. Gods, Sam, it’s like you don’t even know me!”

 

Sam eyed him nervously as Dean grabbed a bundle of dynamite, striking a match off the railing of the ship. Deftly, he lit the fuse and threw the dynamite at the same time Cetus opened his mouth to swallow another soldier.

 

“Prepare for sushi,” Dean grinned. Sam groaned.

 

“You haven’t gotten any funnier, I see.”

 

Dean snorted, “You may not be laughing now, but just wait until-”

 

Cetus exploded.

 

The ship and all its crew were coated in thick, rubbery goo, and some other, less appetizing squid bits.

 

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam said.

 

“Well, look at that,” Dean said, stepping backwards towards the railing again, “the monster’s dead, the prince is alive, and the Book of Peace is safe. Just another job well done.”

 

Sam smiled, exasperated. “Come back to Syracuse with us, Dean. Your men, as well. There’s a feast tonight, for me and Casti-”

 

“Sounds great, Sam,” Dean interrupted. He knew it was happening, but that didn’t mean he needed to hear about it. “But, this job is sort of a full time thing and I just-”

 

At that moment, he could feel the railing at the back of his knees. He shrugged at Sam, hopping up to balance on the railing while Benny brought the ship back round.

 

“ _Dean!”_ Sam cried.

 

“Sam, look,” was all Dean got out before a stray piece of wood hit him in the head and knocked him over the side. He blacked out before he hit the water.

 

\--

 

“Oh, and to think, the day started off so well,” the woman said.

 

Dean opened his eyes a crack, trying to ignore the pounding in his head. He was in a giant…bubble? It was a bubble. He was still underwater, and the residual water in the bubble was up to his shins, but there was air and he wasn’t dead.

 

The mysterious woman – larger than any human he’d ever seen, and twice and pretty (but in that terrifying kind of way where Dean was ninety percent sure she was probably going to eat him alive), with long black hair and blue tinted skin – was leaning against the outside of the bubble. Her words sounded odd as they reached his ears, but he accredited that to the bubble.

 

“Excuse me?” he said, still trying to regain his bearings.

 

“I said,” the woman repeated, suddenly human sized and inside the bubble with him, like she was made of smoke, “my day started with such _promise,_ but now? My sea monster is dead, the Prince is alive, and I still don’t have the Book of Peace. All because of you, Dean Winchester.”

 

“Uh huh,” Dean said, “and you are?”

 

“I’m Eris,” the woman – no – Eris corrected, “the Goddess of Discord. No doubt you’ve seen my likeness of the temple walls.”

 

She posed, sharpened teeth bared menacingly. Dean felt the first chill of fear licking at his back.

 

“Ah,” he said, as though it explained everything, “You know they really don’t do you justice.”

 

“Oh, Dean,” she practically purred, tapping his chest lightly with her hand, “with any other goddess, that might have actually worked.”

 

She laughed, and Dean suddenly felt the urge to swim up to the surface and kill someone, start a fight, steal a treasure, do _something._

 

“Now, now, Dean,” Eris murmured, watching him appraisingly, “Do behave yourself. Now, about my sea monster-”

 

“Right, uh, sorry about that,” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I don’t suppose a heartfelt apology would do, would it?”

 

“Heartfelt? From you?” Eris laughed, then stalked up to him, eyes burning into his own, “Oh, Dean, sweetie, _you don’t have a heart.”_

Dean froze, cold anger bubbling in his veins. She was right, of course. He had turned his back on his brother and family because of a boy he could never have had a chance with. He was a pirate. He was, in a word, despicable.

 

“That’s what I like about you. So,” Eris continued, “I’m going to let you live, but there’s just one thing you have to do. Steal the Book of Peace, and bring it to me.”

 

Dean swallowed, “Hmm now, see, that’s gonna be a problem. Because you know, I had my own plans for that book. Uh, ransom, get rich, you know, me stuff.”

 

“Oh, _Dean_ , you aren’t thinking big enough!” She moved closer, cupping his face in her hands, nails digging in just enough that he was hesitant to move away. “Steal the book for you, and you’ll be rich enough to lounge on an island beach.”

 

Dean nodded, because _duh_ , that was the game plan.

 

“But, if you steal the book for me, I’ll make you rich enough to _buy_ the beach, _and_ the island,” she paused, eyes glinting, “ _and the world_.”

 

“So I steal the book, bring it to you, you make me rich, and I retire to paradise,” Dean said thoughtfully, “So far, I’m not seeing a downside.”

 

Eris smiled. Dean frowned. “That is, if you keep your word.”

 

“Dean, darling, when a goddess makes an oath, she’s bound for all eternity.” Eris explained, miming a cross over her heart with Dean’s dagger. Her skin glowed with a blue ‘x’ there, faintly, and then it was gone.

“Alright,” Dean nodded, “You’re on.”

 

“Oh, I just knew you’d see it my way. When you’ve stolen the Book of Peace, follow that star all the way to the end of the earth. That’s where you’ll find Tartarus, where I reside.”

 

“Tartarus?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. No mortal had ever gone to Tartarus and returned. Challenge oh-so-friggin’ accepted. “I’ll see you there.”

 

Eris grinned, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “It’s a date.”

 

Dean sputtered and Eris laughed lightly, “Well now, where were we? Oh, right, you were holding your breath.”

 

The bubble popped.

 

As Dean kicked furiously towards the surface, Eris laughed again, “He’s so cute. And _so_ gullible.”

 

A figure swam up beside her, inky black and dotted with stars. “Cetus,” Eris murmured, patting the squid’s head, “Well done.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a party, a theft, and a reunion of sorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter could be pretty confusing because of quite a few pov shifts!!! i promise that this is one of the few, if it isn't the only, chapter(s) that does that!! only because so much happens in this one! here's your cue to pay close attention~

When he reached the surface, six pairs of hands grabbed him. Dean’s crew lifted him back up onto the deck of his ship, where he sat gasping for breath while Charlie checked him over for any real injuries.

 

When she was done, she turned to Kevin, “Told you he’d be fine!”

 

Kevin groaned, counting out a few coins and tossing them to her. She smirked, but when she hugged Dean again, he didn’t say anything when she squeezed him just a little too tightly.

 

“What happened down there, Cap’n?” Benny asked, slapping him on the shoulder.

 

“You wouldn’t,” Dean said, voice still stinging from lack of air and salt water, “believe me if I told you.”

 

Benny leaned back against the railing, crossing his arms over his chest. “Try me.”

 

Dean shrugged, finally feeling like he was able to breathe normally again. He started wringing water out of the loose folds of his pants and dumping the sand and muck out of his boots.

 

“Alright, here goes. So I meet Eris – the Goddess of Chaos? – she’s totally got the hots for me, though I don’t blame her, and she invited me back to her place.”

 

Benny laughed, deep and breathless, and the crew chuckled as well. “Oh, that’s a good one, Captain. Goddess of Chaos…oh, I am writing that one down.”

 

Dean shook his head minutely, rolling his eyes at his friend. He turned to hop up the steps to the wheel, having altogether abandoned his shoes until they dried completely.

 

“So that’s it, then?” Charlie asked, dangling upside down beside him from a rope. Gods knew where the rope was originally tied off to; Charlie was basically a monkey. “No book? Now what do we do?”

 

“Patience, Bradbury,” Dean smiled, bumping her a little. “It’s not like we don’t know where it’s going.”

 

In the distance, they could see Sam attempting to gather up his remaining soldiers and crew, “C’mon, men! All sails to Syracuse!”

 

Benny gently tugged Dean aside, “Are you really sure you’re ready to be back there, Captain – _Dean?_ The feast is tonight. He’s going to be-”

 

“I know, Benny, I know what he’s going to be. He’s going to be married to my brother. I can only run away from that fact so many times. Besides, we’re going to sneak in, nab the book, and then?”

 

“Fiji.” Benny sighed.

 

“Don’t say it like that,” Dean grinned, “ _Fiji!”_

Around them, the crew shouted, “ _Fiji! Fiji!”_

_\--_

King John Winchester of the Twelve Cities was nothing if not a prideful man. There was a hunger in his eyes every time someone even mentioned the Book of Peace, and the elaborate watch tower he had built for its arrival in Syracuse was his pride and joy. He was more proud of the tower, in fact, than Dean, his first born son.

 

But that was no matter now, because the Book of Peace, along with Prince Sam and his soldiers, was in Syracuse again. The light from the Book illuminated the windows of the tower, and King John found it hard to look away.

 

“A toast,” Sam said, raising his glass, “to King John Winchester of the Twelve Cities, First of his Name, and my father!”

 

The crowd at the feast cheered, lifting their glasses in respect.

 

“A toast,” John replied, raising his own, “to the Book of Peace, now where it finally belongs!”

 

The crowd cheered, and the King’s advisor nudged him. “And to my son, Prince Samuel!” he added, “A toast to Prince Samuel and Prince Castiel, Ambassador of Thrace, and Samuel’s husband-to-be!”

 

A commotion from the front of the room caused the party to turn and look.

 

“What is _he_ doing here?” King John hissed.

 

Sam smiled at the sight of Dean and his crew, “At least he’s not out robbing someone!”

 

John grumbled, “That’s because everyone worth robbing is _here_.”

 

\--

 

Surrounded by guards, Dean huffed a breath, nudged a sword away from his throat, and turned to Benny. “See? This is what happens when we use the front entrance.”

 

Benny smiled at him, and Dean snorted when he saw his brother jogging over to them.

 

One of the guards pushed his blade further into Dean’s face, and Dean grinned. “I’ll bet you ten crowns you’re about to put that sword down.”

 

The guard’s frown deepened, “I’ll take that bet.”

 

“Guards,” Sam called, “Put away your swords.”

 

Dean tilted his head and pushed past the disbelieving soldier to greet his brother.

 

“I don’t see you for ten years and then twice in one day?” Sam asked. “Dean, you’re smothering me!”

 

Dean smiled softly as he appraised the room. Out on the balcony, he could just see the glint of light emanating from the tower where the Book of Peace was being held.

 

“I knew you’d want to thank me for saving your life,” he said, “again.”

 

Sam threw his head back and laughed. “You’re probably just here because you heard about the free food and wine.”

 

“You hear that guys?” said Dean, turning back to his crew, “Dinner and drinks are on the prince.”

 

Sam smiled at him, “C’mon Dean, there’s someone I want you to see.”

 

Dean felt his heart sink in his chest. He leaned over to Benny and muttered “get to work” before reluctantly following his brother through the crowd.

 

“You remember Castiel, don’t you?” Sam asked.

 

Castiel’s eyes were the same shade of blue that had stopped Dean’s heart when they were but boys. His hair was just as messy, though the sun had lightened it. It no longer looked black, but the dark worn brown of a well treated ship.

 

Dean knew he was staring, and probably drooling, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

“The infamous Dean Winchester,” Castiel said, clasping Dean’s hands between his own. He was warm, alive, and Dean knew that coming here was the worst thing he could have ever done. “I remember you well.”

 

The way he said it, the way Dean’s named sounded as it rolled off Castiel’s tongue, made him want to run back to his ship, sail out to uncharted waters and never return. Instead, he leaned in and murmured, “I’m sure you do. I’ve been told that I leave _quite_ the impression.”

 

Castiel smiled, and it was sad, but fond. Dean wasn’t sure if that made it any better.

 

“Sam told me about today. First you try to rob him, and then you save his life. So, what are you Dean? A thief or a hero?”

 

“I prefer the term opportunist,” Dean replied.

 

Cas chuckled, reluctantly letting go of Dean’s hands. When he did, they felt cold and empty. Dean had to restrain from chasing after Castiel’s warmth.

 

Dean turned to leave, sensing the end of the conversation when Sam pulled him into a hug. “I’ve missed you, Dean. I truly have.”

 

Dean smiled, but he could feel the guilt clawing at his stomach, “Of course you do, Sammy, I’m irresistible.”

 

Sam smacked him lightly, and Dean chuckled. Turning to Cas, he jokingly held his arms out. “Should I expect a hug from you, as well?” he teased.

 

To his surprise, Cas leaned in, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist. Dean tensed, but relaxed into the grip, his head tucking over Castiel’s shoulder. It was the kind of contact he knew only from his dreams, and just like his dreams, too soon was it over.

 

He nodded his farewell in a short, jerky movement, and hurried over to Benny.

 

“It’s almost too easy,” Benny said, crunching a breadstick between his teeth, “There are only a handful of guards.”

 

“Forget the book,” Dean muttered, “Let’s just get back to the ship.”

 

“Just like that?” Charlie said, sliding up to them, oranges bulging from her pockets and hands, “But we’re so close!”

 

Dean kept walking and didn’t look back. He heard Benny’s faint “oh,” and Charlie ask, “Who’s she? An old girlfriend?”

 

“I’m afraid that it’s a bit more,” Benny hesitated, “complicated than that.”

 

\--

 

Sam flushed lightly after Dean took off, and Castiel patted his shoulder, leading him out to the balcony.

 

“I’m sorry for my brother’s sudden departure.” Sam said as they stepped out into the open air, the last few rays of daylight steadily sinking over the horizon. The sky was orange and blue and purple and red and Sam, not for the first time, was struck by the fact that he was alive.

 

“It’s alright, Sam,” Cas said, “It is nothing I didn’t understand. Now that the Book is in Syracuse, maybe your father will finally relax,” Cas said, blue eyes watching the distant horizon as well.

 

“I doubt it,” Sam said, leaning against the balcony’s railing, “Now that the Book is in Syracuse, he’ll probably double the security.”

 

Castiel smiled, but mainly out of courtesy. He and Sam were friends, but distant ones at that. Growing up, their families had always planned a wedding between Sam and Castiel’s younger sister, Anna. Unfortunately, Anna had taken sick when she was thirteen, and fell prey to the illness six months later. Castiel had stepped up when Anna passed, and the families had agreed to the new arrangement.

 

It was no secret that the new arrangement was what caused his brother to desert the crown and take up pirating.

 

Sometimes, though, Castiel acted so carefully around him, Sam was almost sure he was trying to emulate his sister, soft-spoken as she was.

 

Sam only wished that they could at least be closer friends, if they were expected to be married. He stared at the tower, hoping childishly that maybe the Book of Peace would help him find his answer.

 

Cas sighed, “It’s beautiful.”

 

Sam grinned at the tower, “Isn’t it? My father had it built especially to hold the book. He spent years preparing it. There’s guards on every level and if you look you can see – oh wait, you were talking about the ocean, weren’t you?”

 

Cas raised an eyebrow, but smiled. His smile faded and softened into something else as he watched the waves. Sam was acutely aware of his brother’s ship docked at their port, just in Castiel’s line of sight.

 

“I only wish,” Cas said, “I only ever wish I’d seen more of it. Dean and I, we used to – I used to imagine sailing beyond the horizon, beyond the shadows of the Twelve Cities, where no one could ever find me. Look at it, Sam, there’s so much wonder.”

 

Castiel shook his head minutely, flashing Sam a wry smile. “A child’s foolish dreams; drunk on the idea that love and a fast ship would heal all wounds. But two boy’s young dreams are not things to depend on; not in the Twelve Cities, not in uncharted waters, not even on a deserted island, miles and miles from here. It’s no matter now.”

 

Sam was silent. He looked to the sea and tried to see what Castiel was seeing, tried to know whatever secret knowledge Castiel kept locked inside his head, but he could only see waves, sparkling, blue, and full of fish that would provide for what would soon be his people.

 

“Castiel, our marriage,” Sam started, “it was arranged so long ago, by people other than us. But politics is no reason to get married.”

 

Cas looked at him, some unknown emotion glimmering in his blue eyes.

 

“I only want you to be happy. A kingdom can’t function with an unhappy ruler. I just – I just wish I knew the right thing to do.” Sam finished, not able to meet Castiel’s eyes.

 

“This wouldn’t have something to do with the baker’s son,” Castiel replied easily, “oh, what was his name? Right, _Gabriel_?”

 

“No!” Sam said, “I mean, yes. But only partly. I do want what’s right for the Twelve Cities, and I do want you to be happy.”

 

Cas patted his hand reassuringly, “I know, Sam. That’s why you are going to be an amazing ruler. I am more than satisfied with being by your side when you become so.”

 

Sam knew Castiel meant what he said, but when he saw those blue eyes gazing longingly at the sea, at that ship, and at the horizon, he also knew it wasn’t really the truth.

 

\--

 

The tower was silent, save for occasional rustling of a chainmail cloaked guard, and no one suspected that the shadow dancing on the wall thrown from the candle lit sconces could be a goddess.

 

Eris smiled to herself. This was really going to be too easy.

 

She detached herself from the wall, conjuring up the face of one Dean Winchester to hide her identity. Seeing her reflection in one of the wall’s many mirrors, she grinned. A pirate’s face grinned back at her.

 

The Book of Peace was kept on the top floor of the tower, the number of guards increasing on every level. At this time, however, the guards were all at the feast, so the number of guards in the tower was diminished by at least half, if not more.

 

It was like taking candy from an overgrown child king with too much pride. Oh wait, that was exactly what she was doing.

 

Eris slipped through the door to the tower’s top level, feeling oddly heavy in Dean’s body. Ugh, humans were so grounded to the Earth. It was both fascinating and infuriating. She could just steal the book and kill the guard and no one would ever know who to blame, but this, this was the key. Stealing it while she looked like Dean Winchester? Him then being accused of the crime and put to death? Oh, it was just too good.

 

And really, she was doing the world a favor, ridding it of such a despicable pirate.

 

The guard’s eyes widened before she knocked him out. She double checked his heartbeat, making sure she hadn’t actually killed him. He needed to be alive. He needed to be able to tell the king exactly who he had seen stealing the book.

 

When the Book of Peace slammed closed, an eerie silence settled over Syracuse. Then, one by one, as if a switch had been flipped in their tiny mortal brains, the people of Syracuse began to scream.

 

\--

 

Dean Winchester woke up in a prison cell. For the very first time in his life, he wasn’t sure what he had done to get there.

 

The last thing he remembered was getting ready to board his ship. A guard had run up to him, yelling about the book. The book? Dean didn’t have the book. He tried to explain. You see, he was going to take the book, but it was too easy. The guard didn’t understand. There was a punch thrown.

 

Oh.

 

They thought Dean stole the book.

 

He didn’t, but someone did.

 

His head still hurt. Badly.

 

The door to his cell was thrown open, and Sam rushed inside.

 

“Dean,” Sam said coolly.

 

“Sam!” Dean said, and then winced when the sound drove into his aching head. “Good, you’re here. I’m still a little foggy. What’s going on?”

 

“I can’t believe you, Dean,” Sam said, “I thought maybe you were changing for the better. How could you do this to us, Dean? To me?”

 

Dean shook his head to clear it, but it only made the pain worse. “What did I _do_ , exactly?”

 

“You stole the Book of Peace.”

 

Dean opened his mouth, and then closed it.

 

“You’ve betrayed us, Dean.”

 

He grimaced, “I’ve betrayed a lot of people, Sam. But not you, not Cas. I didn’t steal your precious book.”

 

“Dean, please, just admit that you did it. It’ll soften your punishment if they think you’re trying to absolve.”

 

There was a pause. The silence in the cell seemed deafening, and the pounding of Dean’s heart was reverberating against his skull.

 

“Okay, Sam,” Dean said after a moment, “Here’s the thing: first, I actually commit a crime. _Then_ you get to blame me for it.”

 

“Then how do you explain the eye witness, Dean? We have a guard who said that he saw _you_ in the tower, _you_ knocked him unconscious so that _you_ could steal the Book of Peace!”

 

Sam seemed momentarily stunned by his outburst, but all the little pieces were falling together in Dean’s head.

 

“ _Eris_ ,” he said. As soon as he said it, he was sure. That was it. That had to be it.

 

“What?” Sam asked.

 

“Eris – the goddess Eris. She’s the one who sent Cetus to our ships this morning. She’s the one who told me to steal the book for her. When I didn’t, she framed me. Sam, please, I didn’t steal the book. Trust me; the book is in Tartarus-”

 

“Dean, listen to yourself.”

 

Dean pressed a hand to his forehead, and he could hear Sam turn away.

 

“Talk to dad, Sam. Tell him that I-”

 

“This is beyond our father, Dean. The ambassadors are convening now for your trial.” Sam said, resigned.

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Dean, “Trial? I didn’t do it! Look, I left the book on your ship, and that’s the last I saw of it. You were there, Sam. You know that. You know _me_.”

 

“Do I, Dean?” Sam asked. “I knew a kid. Who are you now, Dean?”

 

“Your brother.”

 

Sam’s eyes flashed in the dim lighting of the cell. He swallowed hard, and Dean held fast in his gaze. He wasn’t letting this go.

 

“Look me in the eyes, Dean,” Sam said softly, “Look me in the eyes and tell me the truth. Did you steal the Book of Peace?”

 

Dean met Sam’s gaze with the most determination he could muster. _Where was Cas_ , he thought, _what did Cas think of him now?_ A thief or a hero, Cas had asked. Now, Dean didn’t even know. He was a pirate, and a villain, and a deserter of the crown. Any man in the Twelve Cities would have loved to see him hanged. But he did not steal that book.

 

So, he looked his brother in the eyes, and said, “No.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the trial. Also: Cas was on the ship. Cas was on his ship. Cas was in his room on his ship touching his things and Dean was going to stab something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this chapter took so long!! i'm hoping it won't happen again, i'm just switching schools and it's very chaotic around here!!

“Dean Winchester, for the last time, give us the book.”

 

The Ambassadors – all older men who gorged themselves on the fruits of other’s labor – had had him on trial for roughly two hours. All they had done was ask him to give them the book. His father was seated in the middle of them all, but stayed stony and silent. He glared down at Dean with a look of utter contempt and for some reason, Dean was _glad._

“Respectfully, Ambassadors, for the last time, I don’t have the book.” Dean said, slamming his chained-together hands onto the table in front of him. “I never took your book. I don’t know where the book is, and frankly, I’m tired of hearing about the damn thing.”

 

“Very well then,” one of the Ambassadors said, “the Delegation of the Twelve Cities finds Dean Winchester guilty of treason, and we sentence him to die.”

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dean muttered. “I didn’t take the Book of Peace!”

 

The crowd in the room where they had convened was getting restless. Now that the boring part was over, they wanted his blood. He wasn’t surprised, but really? There were children here.

 

“Stop!” Sam cried, running into the court room. His hair was out of its official ponytail, flying about his face, and he looked flushed. He met Dean’s eyes once, mouthed “sorry,” before swallowing hard and turning to the council. “I demand the right of substitution. Take me in my brother’s stead.”

 

Dean struggled against his restraints, “No!”

 

The ambassadors shifted uncomfortably. By law, Sam had this right, but he was also their prince. They turned to look at King John, hoping for some deciding vote.

 

“You really want to give your own life,” John began, “to save the cheaply clothed backside of this unlawful outcast?”

 

Sam fumed, “This ‘unlawful outcast’ is your _son._ What is wrong with you that you would send him to his death without even hearing him out?”

 

John looked over Dean appraisingly, almost bored, before turning back to Sam. “I see no son of mine.”

 

Sam shook his head in disgust, but stood ever taller, holding his chin towards the council.

 

“I demand my right to be executed in Dean Winchester’s place.”

 

“What are you doing, Sam?” Dean hissed, “This is ridiculous, you can’t die.”

 

Sam turned to him, a nervous smile playing on his face. “You claim that Eris stole the Book of Peace? Steal it back, Dean. You’re good at that.”

 

Dean leveled Sam with a look. “Sam Winchester, you will not give up your life for me.”

 

“You sound like father,” Sam teased, but his voice was too shaky. “Dean, I have to do this. You would do the same for me.”

 

“You think he actually cares for you?” John interrupted, a malicious smile dancing on his face. “Do not die in place of this – this _coward,_ my son. You are worth ten of this pirate’s soul.”

 

Dean couldn’t find it in himself to even argue. He just looked at Sam and nodded, because someone understood. Sam needed to live. Sam needed to become king.

 

Sam shook his head at both of them. “Dean either stole the book, or he’s telling the truth, and it’s in Tartarus. Either way, he is our only hope.”

 

Another ambassador stepped in, “Prince Samuel, you understand that if Dean Winchester does not return, you will be put to death in his place. You will die.”

 

Sam nodded. “I understand.”

 

John waved an arm like he was tired of this entire situation. “So be it. Let the boy take the pirate’s place. It’s his own death certificate that he’s signing. Dean Winchester has ten days to return the book. Release him and get on with it.”

 

Guards came up and unlocked his cuffs. He threw his arms around Sam’s neck quickly before they restrained the young prince.

 

“Be safe,” Sam muttered into Dean’s ear. “And whatever you do, don’t be late.”

 

Dean smiled weakly, fighting the burn of tears. “I’ll be back before you know it, Sammy, saving your life again.”

 

Sam smiled at him. “You’re good at saving people. I trust you.”

 

Dean sighed as he walked out of the castle. _What a horrible decision, Sammy._

_\--_

The sky was blue, the wind was perfect, and Dean Winchester couldn’t enjoy any of it. He stood at the bow of the ship, looking down at the water, waited for something to happen that would mean everything that had happened over the past two days was a cruel joke, and no more.

 

He’d never been quite that lucky.

 

“Captain?” Benny asked.

 

Dean plastered a grin on his face, “Alright, how do we get to Tartarus?”

 

Benny’s cautious smile dropped completely. “You’re kidding, right? We’re not actually- you’re not actually planning on going to _Tartarus_?”

 

“Where else would we be going, Benny?” Dean asked harshly.

 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Benny challenged, “Fiji, maybe? We’re free, Dean. We have an out. And you’re going to waste it on him?”

 

“‘Him’ is my brother.” Dean hissed, before stomping towards the hall. “Set sails for that star,” he yelled as he descended the steps, “and no one listen to Benny!”

 

“Stupid, clueless, good for nothing,” Dean muttered as he stalked.

 

He stormed down the hall, intent on locking himself in his cabin, like a totally mature adult, before he heard a voice.

 

“Look at all this,” the voice murmured, and was that? _Fuck._ “Oh no, this can’t be real it’d be much too delicate–”

 

A slender finger reached out to touch the tail of one of Dean’s fossils. The very last tail bone snapped off, and quietly clattered to the floor. “Oops.”

 

Cas moved along the table, occasionally prodding things. A flimsy sequined top, “From a brothel in Syracuse,” he muttered. An old, yellowed map, “From Venezia? Whatever were you doing there, Dean?”

 

“Passing through,” Dean said, moving forward to lean against the doorway. He stepped carefully into the room and Castiel appraised him thoughtfully, looking for all the world that this was _his_ ship, and _Dean_ was the stowaway. “Like I hope you’re doing.”

 

Cas smiled minutely, and if Dean hadn’t known him so well, he wouldn’t have caught it. “Sorry to crush your hopes so soon after our reunion.”

 

Dean snorted. “You’ve done worse when we knew each other better.”

 

Castiel froze, voice cold, “You are the one who left, Dean.”

 

“Like I had any other option!” Dean burst. The ship, the room, his skin, it all felt too tight, like he was holding his breath underwater.

 

“You could have taken me with you,” Cas replied, and it was like he wasn’t even angry. He was cool and collected and indifferent. Dean wanted to wreck him.

 

“And we would have had the king’s soldiers on the next tide after us,” Dean said. “And if I had asked, you wouldn’t have come. Too hung up on your _duty_.” He spat the word like it was something dirty, and it was.

 

“I would have given up everything for you, Dean.” Cas said quietly, eyes burning.

 

“Would have,” Dean replied. He moved closer, getting into Castiel’s space. “Be honest, Cas. Were you ever actually in love with me?”

 

Castiel stared at him, eyes filled with something Dean didn’t quite get. It had been ten years, ten years since he had seen Castiel Novak. But it felt like no more than a day had passed. He was still just as stubborn, just as passionate, but this time around, he was more subdued about it. When he was younger, Dean remembered, not ten minutes would go by without Castiel stating some opinion imperiously, as if just by being the Ambassador’s son, anything he said was law. Now, all of those opinions were tucked behind etiquette and manners and the Ambassador’s son had become the Ambassador.

 

“I was thirteen,” was Castiel’s reply. It was soft and sure and it wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either.

 

“And now?” Dean asked, voice just as low.

 

“Now,” Cas replied, lifting his chin, “now I am joining you, to make sure you get to Tartarus and retrieve the book.”

 

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” Dean asked, incredulous.

 

“I had reason to doubt you,” Castiel said, “but I heard what you told the crew. I trust you, Dean.”

 

“An ultimately horrible decision,” Dean replied.

 

Cas eyed him strangely, “You keep doing that. Why?”

 

Dean was altogether uncomfortable under Castiel’s scrutiny, but wasn’t about to let him know that. “Doing what? Telling the truth?”

 

“Ignoring your own strengths in favor of painting yourself as the villain, even in your own story. It’s almost like you’re incessantly trying to keep people from seeing you as anything but something to warn their children about.” Cas said, and he looked calm, but Dean could see his hand curling and uncurling. The last time he looked like that, Dean had watched him punch a visiting dignity in the face.

 

This was, quite possibly, the worst day of his life.

 

He moved closer, ducking his head into Castiel’s space. “Your dad warned you about me,” he said with a smirk, “I distinctly remember it.”

 

Cas stood up taller, jutting out his chin. It was cute. And attractive.

 

“I was never any good at listening to my father,” Castiel reminded him. “And you’re wrong you know; about yourself.”

 

“I don’t know, Cas,” Dean said. They were still standing inordinately close together. “I think I make a pretty good villain.”

 

Cas scoffed. Actually scoffed, and tried to cover it up by feigning clearing his throat. “You used to steal food and hide under the tables with me during the balls because you knew crowds made me anxious. You used to play with your brother every day because you knew your father wouldn’t.”

 

“ _Used_ to—”

 

“Quiet, Dean, I’m not finished. You—you’re insufferable. You left because you thought it would help. Not you, but someone, and I don’t know what even made you think that because—”

 

“ _You_ did, Castiel,” Dean interrupted, coolly, “You made me think that. All those times we talked about getting out of there. Getting a ship and a crew or maybe even just the two of us, and sailing to somewhere where we could finally be out from under the shadow of the Twelve Cities. And then Anna died and all of the sudden, there was a duty that had to be done. It could have been Michael or Lucifer or any of your brothers to step up, but no, _you_ had to—”

 

“Do not,” Cas said, as he jabbed a finger into Dean’s chest, “do not try and blame me for what happened to us, Dean Winchester. You left.”

 

“ _I gave you up_ ,” Dean snarled. He couldn’t take it, the stifling air of the small cabin. He needed to stare out at the sea and remember his mistakes; all of the different beds he made for himself. He needed to lie in them for a little while longer. He stalked in the opposite direction, but turned back before he left the room, “You can blame me for whatever else, Cas, but don’t you dare say I left you. I gave you up. You had a duty, you had a life; you had a castle and a kingdom welcoming you with open arms. I was a disowned prince with twenty crowns to his name and a father who told me if my ship wasn’t gone by first light, he’d have me executed. You had everything, Castiel, you didn’t need me. Nobody needs—nobody _needed_ me.”

 

“I didn’t want any of that. I had _you_ , Dean,” Castiel said softly, brokenly, “I had you, and in you, I had everything I’d ever wanted. Then you left, gave me up, whatever. You were gone. I had you one day, and then you were gone the next. If there was any other choice, any other route to take, don’t think for a second that I wouldn’t have taken it to be with you. But there wasn’t, and I had to agree to whatever plan my father had made. That will always be my greatest regret.”

 

Dean felt something in his stomach burn at Cas’ words. The twisted knot of guilt started to unwind, stretched until he could feel it in his veins.

 

“You still have me, Cas,” he breathed. “You always will.”

 

Cas looked at him, unsure, and it was like they were thirteen all over again. Dean wanted to curl around Castiel like a question mark, but he couldn’t. He thought maybe they both knew that at that moment, Cas wouldn’t yet be the answer. He wouldn’t be the answer, either. They needed to find some balance, find some stable ground beneath their feet before they tried to lean on each other again.

 

“I don’t care if you come with us,” he muttered, “Just stay out of the way until we get the book back to Syracuse.”

 

He winced a little at the indifference in his tone, but Castiel’s face was soft, understanding. Dean didn’t deserve it.

 

“We will talk when this is all behind us, Dean.” Castiel said, and he moved to place his lips against Dean’s cheek.

 

“Cas,” Dean warned. He felt ready to bolt, like every nerve ending in his body was screaming at him to _run._

 

“I have you, Dean,” Cas said. “I have you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirens, he thought. Nothing ever goes as planned.
> 
> In which Cas meets the crew and plans have to be slightly rearranged. Also, Benny is shirtless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just an fyi: this chapter and the next are going to be in Castiel's pov!! then we're back to dean!!

Dean was making him stay in the storage room. With the dog.

 

This was absolutely ridiculous. He told as much to the dog.

 

“You understand, don’t you, Spike?” Cas murmured, scratching the mutt behind his ears. “That big mean pirate is just no fun, huh?”

 

“Having fun?”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes, turning to face Dean, who was leaning against the doorframe. “Really, Dean? You need a new entrance.”

 

“Hey now, this hasn’t failed me yet,” Dean said, grinning. Cas ignored the way the tension in his shoulders seemed to dissipate. “Our course is set for Tartarus, by the way.”

 

“Yes, and?” Cas replied. He knew that there was no way Dean wouldn’t do anything in his power to save Sam. He knew that when he first hid onboard. But this was his chance. He finally had a chance to see the world, see the ocean, see _Dean_.

 

“Thank you, Dean,” Dean said, poorly imitating Cas. “You’re so smart and strong and brave. I could just drop to my knees and–”

 

“I don’t sound like that,” Cas interrupted, moving past Dean to get to the door. “And besides,” he murmured, eyes raking Dean’s face before flicking back up to meet his eyes, “that only happens in your dreams, Winchester.”

 

He fought the urge to laugh at the look on Dean’s face, and walked up to the main deck.

 

Dean scrambled up the stairs behind him, “Cas! You _really_ shouldn’t—”

 

“So, _you’re_ Castiel!” A voice said. The voice in question, a red headed girl dangling from a length of rope, was hanging upside down in front of his face.

 

“Uh,” was Castiel’s eloquent response. Before he could get his thoughts composed enough to say anything else, the girl was gone. She was darting from rope to rope roughly one hundred and fifty feet in the air.

 

“He’s totally hot, Kevin, you owe me five crowns!” She shouted, lowering herself into the crow’s nest and startling a boy there.

 

“Dean?” he said, looking for an explanation. The look on his face must have been something hilarious, because was laughing. It was a good sound, though very _rude,_ thank you.

 

“That’s Charlie,” Dean said when he could speak again. “We call her Rat.”

 

“ _Why_?” Cas asked.

 

“Because she climbs the ropes like one. And she’s particularly fond of shiny things. And sticks her nose where it shouldn’t be!” The last bit was shouted, loud enough for Charlie to hear. Her response was an indignant, “ _Hey_!”

 

Cas’ eyes moved down from the sky to the ship around him. It wasn’t exactly crowded, but there was definitely more people than he thought there’d be.

 

“Well, Captain,” he said, sounding surer than he felt, “give me the grand tour.”

 

He linked his arm with Dean’s, thoroughly enjoying the surprise on Dean’s face.

 

“Okay,” Dean said brightly, tugging Cas forward excitedly. If his hand slipped from Castiel’s arm to clutching his hand, Cas didn’t say anything. Just like Dean didn’t say anything when Cas laced their fingers together.

 

“This is the main deck, obviously, and this,” Dean said, throwing his free arm around a rather buff man wearing only loose cotton pants, “this is Benny. He’s my first mate.”

 

Benny rolled his eyes fondly, shrugging out from under Dean’s arm. He eyed Cas warily, “He’s on the ship?”

 

Cas snorted, “ _He_ is right here. And his name is Castiel.”

 

Benny nodded once, “Trust me, I know who you are.”

 

Dean laughed nervously, sliding between them. His grip on Castiel’s hand squeezed once, tightly, and Cas cocked an eyebrow at him. Benny’s gaze flicked from their hands and back to Castiel’s face.

 

“Hurt him,” Benny said lowly, “and there ain’t no place in the Twelve Cities or out of ‘em you could hide.”

 

Cas smiled and nodded. He decided he rather liked Benny.

 

Dean, however, had been getting more and more fidgety the longer they stood there, so Cas turned to him.

 

“For a grand tour, that was pretty short, Winchester. I expected more.”

 

Dean grinned, eyes glinting, “You sure you can handle more, Cas?”

 

Dean’s tone was teasing, but there was something there that was lower; something that shot straight to Cas’ groin. His eyes darkened.

 

“Dean,” he said, moving closer, “At this point, I could handle anything you threw at me.”

 

“We still talking about the ship?” Dean asked, voice hoarse.

 

“Of course,” Cas smiled, stepping away, “What else would we be discussing?”

 

Call him a tease, but the disappointed look on Dean’s face was absolutely adorable.

 

\--

 

The tour lasted most of the morning and early afternoon, and by the end of it, he was quite familiar with almost every single piece of wood on the _Impala_. It seemed to Cas that Dean was almost – if not equally – as proud of his ship as he was of his younger brother.

 

“So,” Dean said, a little breathlessly, “whatdya think?”

 

Cas smiled, gazing out at the horizon line, “She’s beautiful, Dean. It’s beautiful.”

 

Dean leaned against the railing beside him, “Isn’t it?”

 

Cas hummed his agreement, “I can see why love it so much out here.”

 

Dean laughed, “Yeah it sure is something, huh.”

 

They stood there for a few more minutes. Cas used two or three of them to admire the way the sunlight glinted off of Dean’s hair.

 

It seemed like their explosive conversation in Dean’s cabin had taken place years ago. Cas could still hear Dean’s words ringing in his ears. There were things that neither of them said, he knew that much. There were still things that neither of them didn’t yet have the strength to say.

 

It would take time, Castiel mused to himself, time they didn’t really have enough of. If everything went as planned, they would be back in Syracuse in ten days. He would marry Sam. It was entirely likely that he would never see Dean again.

 

That couldn’t happen. He didn’t want to lose Dean, didn’t want to forget how he spoke, how he walked, how the sunlight glinted off his hair on the open water. How he was staring right back at Cas right now.

 

“Cas?” Dean asked, “You still awake over there?”

 

Cas shook his head as if to clear it. “I’m fine, Dean.”

 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Dean offered.

 

Cas smiled, “You are the most selfless man I have ever met.”

 

Dean sputtered, face turning red, and Cas laughed. If everything went as planned, he would tell Sam that he was sorry, but he could not marry him, because there was a world, a ship, and a green eyed man waiting for him, and he never wanted to lose sight of any of that again.

 

Of course, when did anything ever go as planned?

 

 

 

\--

 

“So,” Eris murmured, gazing down at the scene in her scrying bowl, “it seems our little thief isn’t going to run away, is he?”

 

Cetus brushed up against her side, and she stroked along his head.

 

“True love conquers all, doesn’t it?” She sighed, “Well, we’ll just see about that. How about we provide some _mood music_?”

 

\--

 

“ _Dean!”_ Benny’s voice rang out across the ship. “We got a problem, brother.”

 

Dean jumped, and Cas watched him race across the deck to where Benny stood, pale faced and rigid. Cas followed close behind.

 

“What’s going on?” he asked. Dean and Benny were looking out across the water with equal looks of terror.

 

“Those are,” Dean started, eyes wide, “siren’s waters.”

 

Cas’ eyes surveyed their course. A strange fog was beginning to roll in, and Cas could just see the beginnings of rock spires jutting out of the fog and water.

 

“Shit,” he muttered.

 

“Yeah,” Dean agreed.

 

“Is there any way we can go around it all?”

 

“No,” Dean said, and Cas could hear the determination in his voice, “we’ll make it through. Benny, steady the course. Everyone calm down.”

 

“Dean, those are sirens!” Cas said, “If we go in there, we’re all going to die.”

 

“Come on, Cas,” said Dean, smiling at him weakly, “have a little faith.”

 

Cas rolled his eyes. “ _I’m_ going below deck, because _I_ actually want to live through the night. And I’m taking my faith with me.”

 

Dean nodded. “Good, stay below deck. I’ll call you when you can come back up.”

 

Cas sat below deck for four minutes. Then his eyes caught something clinging to a barrel. _Wax._

He stuffed a generous amount in both of his ears and, when he was certain he couldn’t hear anything, he ran back up to the main deck.

 

_Sirens,_ he thought. _Nothing ever goes to plan._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay guys!! due to school and other things, i think i'm gonna start updating once a week instead of twice!!! expect a chapter either thursday or friday!!! <33


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel is a total BAMF and Dean is a butthead. I'm so sorry I can't do serious summaries anymore but hey if you are this far into this mess with me than I'm sure you won't mind. And I'm so sorry this chapter took so long I promise I'll try to not let that happen again!!

The sirens didn’t look like they did in all of Castiel’s books. He had looked at drawings of beings who were half human and half bird, blood and other things dangling from their beaked mouths. They were terrifying. In reality, they weren’t as frightening.

 

They looked like they were made of water, clear and liquid, but still beautiful. Their mouths were moving, tantalizingly lush, but Cas couldn’t hear a thing. The only other being on the ship who wasn’t affected was Spike.

 

Cas made rounds, collecting the stray crew members who were drifting towards the sirens and almost off the ship and tying them to various places on the deck, hoping that they were still too dazed to untie themselves.

 

Charlie struggled weakly at the rope, eyes glazed over as she stared blankly through Cas, and towards a siren perched gracefully on the ship’s railing.

 

There was one siren in particular floating closest to Dean. It was male, and while Cas wasn’t shocked by that, he was shocked by the siren’s resemblance. It was _him,_ in the weirdest sort of way. Him, but softer. The siren beckoned Dean closer, running a watery hand through his hair. Dean looked smitten, leaning into the siren and off of the edge of the boat.

 

“Dammit,” Cas muttered, running forward and slipping in front of Dean to push him back. He hadn’t, however, taken into account the fact that Dean had been leaning into kiss his siren.

 

Instead, Dean kissed him. His mouth was desperate, needy, like Cas was his godsdamned lifeline. It was heady, and distracting, and Cas knew that if Dean knew what he was doing, he would still kiss Cas like this; like it was their last day on Earth. Cas almost kissed back.

 

Instead, he pulled away, and Dean’s eyes were a little clearer.

 

Dean’s mouth moved a little, like he was saying something. His smile was still a little wobbly.

 

Cas punched him in the face.

 

On the plus side, since Dean was unconscious, Castiel didn’t have to worry about him dying. He dragged Dean somewhat ungracefully down below, and leaned him against his bed. Then he shut and bolted the door from the outside.

 

He nodded at his handiwork. Dean was safe and the crew was incapacitated. They were in the clear.

 

Of course, they were still in a rapidly moving river full of sharp rocks, but one problem at a time.

 

\--

 

The crew came to before Dean did. Cas had managed to avoid most of the rocks, but the waterfall at the end had been an unexpected surprise. So the ship had taken a little damage. Some of the wood paneling was dinged up and one of the sails was torn pretty badly.

 

But they were all still alive, so Cas was counting it as a success.

 

“We did good, Spike,” he said. “How’s my little hero?” Spike thumped his tail against the deck.

 

A murmur of groggy voices came creeping up the wheel. Cas eyed the gaggle of dazed crew members. They seemed to be snapping out of it.

 

“What happened?” Charlie asked.

 

“Sirens,” Cas said.  


Benny met Castiel’s gaze harshly, “Where’s Dean?”

Cas grinned and walked down the short set of stairs to the main deck. He paused by Benny and cocked an eyebrow, “The captain wasn’t feeling well, so I took the liberty of helping him to bed.”

 

He opened up the door to Dean’s cabin, and out came the fuming, red-faced captain.

 

The crew members looked at Cas, then at Dean, and scattered. All except for a few, who were waved away by Benny.

 

“Alright men, back to reality! We got a ship to fix, c’mon, there’s nothing to see.”

 

Cas turned to face Dean fully, “Still think that the ship’s no place for nobility, _Captain?”_

 

“Absolutely!” Dean grunted, “Just look at this place! Look at my ship! This railing? This is hand-carved _mahogany_! And here!”

 

Dean paced around the main deck, waving his arms wildly. “These moldings came all the way from _Damascus_! Do you have any idea what I went through to steal those?”

 

Cas narrowed his eyes, “You have got to be kidding me. I saved your life!”

 

“I would have been fine,” Dean muttered, “I always am.”

 

“ _You_ ,” Cas hissed, poking Dean’s chest, “You are unbelievable.”

 

“And you chipped the paint!” Dean cried.

 

Cas rolled his eyes, “Dean Winchester, that is _enough_! I saved your life, the lives of your crew, and your ship. And I will _not_ be talked at like a young boy for doing so.”  


Dean gaped at him, and Cas spun on his heel, striding back down to his (and Spike’s) cabin.

 

\--

 

Dean was so not at fault here. His ship was _ruined._

Okay, so it wasn’t ruined, but it was close to being ruined. They needed supplies, like, yesterday. There was no way they’d make it to Tartarus and back with a torn sail and busted railing.

 

He stared around at the crew, ignoring their raised eyebrows and contemptuous glances.

 

“What?” he challenged. “Come on, you guys!”

 

Charlie rolled her eyes. Spike huffed a breath through his mouth.

 

 

Dean grumbled to himself as he turned to the door. “The _dog_ and the—the _crew_ and _that man_ and—”

 

He knocked once on Castiel’s door. Hard.

 

Cas swung the door open and met Dean’s hard look with an even harder one, steel blue eyes sharpened.

 

“ _What?”_ Cas asked harshly.

 

“Thank you.” Dean said coolly.

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

“My _apologies_.”

 

“Don’t worry about it.”

 

“I won’t.”

 

“ _Good.”_

 

“Good.”

 

“Fine.”

 

“ _Fine.”_

 

“Good _bye_.”

 

“Bye to you.”

 

Castiel’s door slammed shut in Dean’s face. He rested his head against the cool wood, took a deep breath, and sent up a prayer to the gods.

 

_Fuck_ this. The goddess of chaos had _nothing_ on Castiel Novak.

 

“Dean?” Benny asked.

 

Dean took a step back before giving the door one last glare.

 

“Yeah?” he replied.

 

“There’s something like an island over there,” Benny said with a small smirk, “maybe we should stop there. See if there’s any supplies to be found. Maybe there’s people?”

 

Dean nodded, “Yeah, yeah okay. Just—okay yeah.”

 

“Dean? You okay?” Benny asked, smirk fading.

 

Dean glanced back at Castiel’s door again, regret and frustration curling, warm and familiar, in his stomach.

 

“I’m fine,” he breathes, “let’s just fix the damn ship.”

**Author's Note:**

> okay guys, here it is!! my second attempt at a multi-chapter fic! i'm going to try and update at least once a week (probably mondays), if not twice (mondays and thursdays)!! any questions, comments, or concerns can be directed to my tumblr (@cptnkirrk), twitter (@skaiasphere), or my livejournal (@kaistiel)!!


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